


Blood Heat

by Belladonna_Q



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Angry Sex, Fighting for Dominance, Knotting, M/M, Pon Farr, Post Into Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-04 23:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1796956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belladonna_Q/pseuds/Belladonna_Q
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“According to your read-outs, the Captain has similar symptoms to what my people call plak tow.”</p><p>“Plak tow?”</p><p>“The blood heat. It has been said that one that has been empathically bonded with a Vulcan one can experience partial Pon Farr. I believe that is what the Captain is experiencing.”</p><p>“Pon Farr?” McCoy gaped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

McCoy left the medical bay, snapping his gloves off and tossing them into a biohazard bin. He stared at his PADD, running the diagnostic report again, cursing twice as the results were inaccurate. They  _had_  to be inaccurate.

When he reached the bridge, he gave a quick scout of the area, but Jim was not to be seen. Spock held command, arms folded neatly across his chest as he gave him a curious glance, but McCoy ducked out once more.

“God Damnit,” he muttered, swiping his PADD to sift through results, shaking his head.

Coming up to the Captain’s quarters, McCoy knocked once with the flat side of his fist.

“Jim,” he called, banging again with his open palm. “Jim!”

“Jesus Christ,” came a voice behind the door, and McCoy stood back as the door slid open.

James Kirk was dressed in Federation issued bedclothes, and from what McCoy knew, it was six hours before the Captain’s shift was to be over. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and his complexion was pale with a touch of sleep-flush on his cheeks.

“Bones, what the hell—“

“Jim, I need to talk to you about your life-signs. These reading are all wrong—“

“Bones,” the Captain gave a hard rubs to his eyes, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

“And what the hell are you doing in bed? Are you sick?” At Jim’s eye roll McCoy grit his teeth. “The Federation guide states that if any Starfleet officer is feeling ill—even  _remotely_  ill—they are to report to med bay immediately!”

“Christ, I’m  _fine_. Why is this important right now? You came all the way from medical to tell me your machine isn’t working?”

“My tricorder is fine, Jim. It’s your results that aren’t. Your results are impossible.”

“Well, ‘impossible’ let’s me know that your machine must be broken.”

“Jim, listen. I tried telling you this before on the shuttle. And in the loading bay. Your life-signs are way off the charts. It’s getting worse. This is the fifth time I’ve run them. And now you’re off the bridge during your shift and—“

“Bones!” The doctor’s head snapped up from his PADD and balked at the furious expression Jim now held. “Get out of here! That’s an order!” And McCoy pulled back, PADD to his chest, as the door slid shut.

* * *

“I need to talk to you. Now.”

Spock looked down at the medical officer, and whatever his expression held had the Vulcan giving a nod, no questions asked.

“Chekov, you have the conn.”

“Aye, I have the conn.”

He followed McCoy through the corridors and the doctor stopped at an alcove, thrusting his PADD to his chest.

“What—“

“Oh just read the damn thing already.”

Spock flipped the PADD right side up and reviewed swiftly.

“Is this a medical report of the Captain?”

“It’s a reading I’ve been running diagnostics on. Note anything unusual?”

“It seems either your PADD or medical devices are faulty.”

“Damnit, there is nothing wrong with my machines!”

“I also don’t believe I should be privy to private medical files—“

“Oh for—!” McCoy snatched the PADD out of Spock’s hands. “I’ve run these damn things five times now, and every time they get a little more—wonky.”

“Is that a medical term?”

“Look, they get worse, alright? I went to Jim, and he just slid the door in my face. Ordered me to leave him alone.”

“I have a theory, if you will permit me to speak of your field.”

“’course yeah. That’s why I came to you. And that nearly killed me Spock, I want you to know that. This is the Hail Mary pass.”

Placing his hands carefully behind his back, Spock gave the doctor a long look.

“According to your read-outs, the Captain has similar symptoms to what my people call plak tow.”

“Plak tow?”

“The blood heat. It has been said that one that has been empathically bonded with a Vulcan one can experience partial Pon Farr. I believe that is what the Captain is experiencing.”

“ _Pon Farr_?” McCoy gaped.

“It would explain his neurochemical imbalance, increase in blood pressure, and erratic behavior.” At McCoy’s raised look he amended. “Erratic even for him.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“The last few days since our departure into our mission I have noticed a distinct… reaction in my presence.”

McCoy stared.

“He will not allow himself to be alone in my company. Our conversations are also uncharacteristically succinct. He has other aggressive reactions that are also distinctly out of character. I believe it explains why of late the Captain has only been able to maintain deck duties for a few hours at a time.”

“Jesus, I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“Knowing the Captain, he did not want to alarm you. He has been maintaining logs and has been assigning duties properly. I did not see the need to contact a medical officer. However, upon reflection of his recent behavior I believe your term ‘twenty twenty vision’ would be appropriate.”

“How do you mean ‘empathically bonded’? You mean with you, right?”

“Seeing how I am the only Vulcan on board and in the Captain’s immediate presence that would be an accurate statement.”

“Jesus man.” McCoy shook his head, tossing his PADD to the counter. “I haven’t heard the term Pon Farr since my medical training.”

“And as my planet is destroyed, it would seem you will hear it even less. For myself, I experience it with intense meditation.”

“So, Jim can handle it with meditation as well, right?”

“I find that outcome extremely unlikely. The meditation required is extremely difficult. Even for my people.”

“Even for you?”

Spock nodded.

“Alright so, what’s another outcome?”

* * *

“Will you do as I ask?” The Vulcan asked, as the doctor nodded, albeit hesitantly.

“You assured me security officers would be present.”

“They are coming, Spock.”

“It is imperative the door is not disturbed.”

“Yeah, you told me.”

“I am stressing to you the importance of this fact. I do not want bloodshed on my hands—“

“ _Spock_. They are coming. I get it. You told me, alright? But what exactly are you going to do?”

Spock gave the doctor a hard stare that left McCoy swallowing dryly. “I will admit I do not know. There are three possible outcomes but I have a limited data set to draw upon an accurate conclusion. But I do know that with plak tow occurring, the Captain will be in great distress. There is also the possibility of death.”

“Jesus. Even though it’s uh, partial?”

“Yes. Until security detail arrives I will need you to protect the door.”

McCoy shifted, decidedly uncomfortable, but he nodded. “Alright, yeah. Got it.”

* * *

With the override complete, Spock entered and sealed the door. Something crackled through him, and he realized with a concerned, swift comprehension that it was something buried within him—the instinct of an intruder entering another male’s domain.

Spock realized he had never stepped foot into the room before. It was an unnamable sensation. One that was entirely unfamiliar and thus, unwelcome.

“Captain?” He called out to silence.


	2. Chapter 2

The captain’s quarters were dim, with anomalous shadows cast from bookcases, chairs and an oddly placed tall plant in the corner. Spock scanned the wide area, but only caught the slight of movement when it was already too late.

He took a step in reverse, hands leaving their post behind his back as the captain shoved him at his side, and Spock hardly had a moment to react before the captain did it again.

“The hell are you doing in here, Spock?” He wasn’t shouting, but there was an angry snarl behind it that made it feel much louder in Spock’s body.

“Captain,” Spock struggled briefly to maintain composure, stilling his hands at his sides. “Dr. McCoy requested my assistance. You are clearly not well.”

“You can’t just barge in here like you own the damn place!” This time he clearly did shout, and the Vulcan set his jaw as he swept eyes over his captain’s form.

Clearly, plak tow had taken hold. There was a sickly look about Kirk, skin flushed and hair soaked with sweat. He may have been ill but he still looked startlingly powerful, muscles swelled and posture imposing. He was rankled with agitation, pacing the small area in the entryway as he stared down Spock, waiting for the Vulcan to respond.

Spock took a breath, chest flexing slowly as he too stared down the human with an unblinking eye. A sudden piercing urge to strike at Kirk rose in him, sharp and swift, before he swallowed it down violently.

“Captain, I do not appreciate you challenging me.” He managed to say quite calmly, even as the captain gave an infuriating smirk. “This is not kal-if-fee. There is no female for us to quarrel over. There is no female to be champion for.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The captain stopped pacing, but still didn’t blink. “You need to leave. That’s an order.”

“I deem you currently unfit for command as does our Chief Medical Officer.”

“Oh _bullshit_. I’m fine—”

“You are experiencing symptoms that if left unresolved will lead to your death. This is a serious matter Jim.”

“Oh, so _now_ I’m Jim?”

“Did you not hear me? This _will_ lead to your death—“

Hands at his sides, Spock was startled once again as Kirk rushed him. An elbow caught his side before Jim shifted quickly and attempted to sweep Spock’s leg to land him on the floor, but the Vulcan sidestepped the endeavor.

Infuriated suddenly for no reason he could yet admit, Spock grabbed the thin collar of Jim’s shirt and yanked, before catching him at his throat and rolling him down with a _thud_ to the carpet.

There was a vicious sense of satisfaction to have Kirk on his back, eyes wide and stunned under him. An urge sprung to the forefront of Spock’s mind, the drive to rip away Kirk’s shirt and expose his belly and throat to the Vulcan. The impulse shocked him, and Spock drew back, hand releasing from around Kirk’s neck, however he remained kneeling on the floor, hands clenching dryly as they stared at each other once again.

“What’s wrong with me, Spock?” And Jim blinked, breaking the hold and fixating on the Vulcan’s uniform, eyes downcast. “I don’t feel right.”

Spock forced a deep breath upon himself before answering. “You are experiencing partial Pon Farr. It is the reproductive ritual of my people.”

“Pon _what_?”

“If the term is unfamiliar you must not take it as a lack of insight on your part. Pon Farr is a deeply private matter for Vulcans. It is not commonly taught or discussed within other cultures. At most, the only outsiders who would be familiar are medical professionals with specialized training and even with that education, it is still not fully known to them.”

He expected a quick-witted remark from the human, but Kirk remained quiet. His eyes were dark and glassy with the fever that threatened his life, his body limp and near unresponsive as he brought his eyes up to Spock’s.

Seeing his captain so submissive, with himself looming over his body, triggered a frisson to run through Spock. He attempted to stand; however his body refused his command. He craved, even as his logic dictated that Kirk’s onset Pon Farr could very well initiate his own.

 _He craved_.

His hand reached on its own volition, gripping Kirk’s pant leg and pulling him to Spock along the carpet in a single sharp movement. Kirk’s eyes went from glassy and unfocussed to livid and incisive in a literal blink of an eye.

His captain kicked, Spock’s hand releasing from his leg, as Kirk attempted to sit up from the floor, legs drawing up.

The Vulcan launched, grappling at Kirk’s shoulders and shoving in an attempt to get the man on his belly. There was a snarl, vicious and otherworldly, and Spock could not tell who it came from.

Kirk had gained some footing, gripping Spock’s forearm and pulling. He made his intentions clear however, as he attempted to yank Spock down to the floor, struggling to throw a leg over, in an effort to pin the Vulcan.

This time, Spock knew it was he who growled deeply, snapping his teeth in an unfamiliar bout of anger that rose quickly in his chest. He hugged his arms around Kirk and shoved again, with much more strength, and his captain buckled under. The pleasure rippled through Spock once more as Kirk grunted beneath him, struggling and kicking his legs out.

“ _Stay down_ ,” Spock hissed, as the heel of Kirk’s barefoot caught his upper thigh. He caught Kirk’s shoulder, fingers tightly gripping as twisted and heaved, Kirk falling to his stomach, face buried in the carpet.

Breathing heavy, sweat sliding down from the top of his head down his neck, soaking through cotton, Jim stilled as the two of them panted nearly in tandem.

“Peace now,” Spock murmured, running a hand along Kirk’s side, his shirt riding up to his armpits. “Acceptance. Peace.”

Kirk continued to breath heavily as Spock adjusted himself over his prone form, gripping the bottom of the captain’s shirt and pulling it. It was saturated, wetly clinging to Jim’s body and hair before Spock pulled it free and tossed it to the floor.

Spock ran his hands across Kirk’s shoulders, to slide across his sides and chest, sweeping a hand along his sweat-soaked spine. He placed his hands to rest at Jim’s backside, thumbs brushing across the dipped dimples at the base, just where his pants began.  

Spock pulled off his own shirt, dry but for the spots of Kirk’s own sweat from their brief wrestle, and tossed it to rest on top of Kirk’s gold uniform.

It was ingrained deeply, this instinct and sudden knowledge of this ritual. Words seemed unnecessary as he pulled down Kirk’s pants and laid himself flush against the captain’s back.

The stuttering sips Kirk was taking slowly calmed, his body acclimating to Spock’s so near to him.

Kirk’s heart fluttered hard inside his ribcage. Spock ran another palm down his side and Jim felt himself crest, and suddenly the moment of panic receded and the desire stretched out, his gut clenching with need.

Spock felt himself harden in his pants, the fabric pulling taunt. It was an urge he had not experienced since his youth and controlled with intense meditation. However with Kirk’s need apparent, his body responded to the willing body beneath him.

He pulled back from Kirk’s form, the other still complacent on the floor, back shivering from the air on his exposed back.

Spock released himself, his flesh heavy and full in his hand and Kirk made a sound, a low, guttural purely instinctual moan that spiraled through the Vulcan. His flesh hardened in his palm, thick and weighty as he leaned forward once more.

Resting his body on top of Kirk’s, Spock roped an arm under the man, palm resting once again on his shoulder as his forearm crossed over his chest, in a bid to prop him up in the proper receiving position.

Kirk’s throat hitched, breath catching in his throat as Spock began to fondle himself, his slick from his heated flesh spilling over, preparing for mating. He grunted as he pulled his hand away, fingers wet from his efforts and pressed a hand to Kirk, looking to prepare his body.

Kirk stiffened, and another stuttering moan escaped him and the Vulcan stroked his hand along the man’s shoulder. Instinctively, such affections were unneeded for a Vulcan female, but Kirk was neither, and seemed to calm ever so in Spock’s hold at his actions.

Something snarled in Spock’s body, another wave of vicious impulse and he pulled Kirk up, the other man’s back flat against his chest. He wanted this man’s belly exposed. His throat and hard flesh between his legs open and vulnerable and at Spock’s very mercy.

“I’m going to take you,” Spock heard himself say, words slipping by him in a terrible haze. “Tell me.”

Kirk made a nonsensical noise, and Spock tightened his hold as the man’s head fell back to Spock’s shoulder.

“Tell me. Give me your consent.”

Jim’s eyes fluttered open. Sweat was beading off him and soaking into Spock’s skin, and he nodded once.

At the image of Kirk so open in his lap, giving him consent, Spock grabbed himself , feeling the base swell in his hand, and positioned, before thrusting upward. His hand remained on Jim’s shoulder pushing him down.

Kirk gasped and strained upward but Spock held him firm.

“Oh God, oh fuck…” Kirk babbled as he accepted and pushed back against Spock’s thrusts.

The rhythm was off key at first, but slowly with each thrust they established a pace that had them straining to find the perfect pitch. Kirk made illogical noises, but Spock did not reach to quiet him. Kirk being human, Spock recognized that they had mating rituals of their own.

Pleasure gripped him, and Spock closed his eyes to focus on the mating ritual at hand. He lifted a hand from Kirk’s waist to feel himself blindly, the flesh at the base was expanding, and he knew he was close.

He gripped and pulled once, Kirk bearing down upon him on instinct as he felt his mating tie press against Kirk’s body. With a snarl he hadn’t meant to let escape, he shoved up again, pressing Kirk down as the knot pressed through with a welcoming, wet yield and Kirk shouted and released onto his own belly in a crosshatch of white lines.

Spock followed, burying his face into the damp flesh between Kirk’s shoulder blades and nape as he released into Kirk’s body, his tie locking them in place as Kirk sagged and gasped upon him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Gorgeous art by [Reapersun](reapersun.tumblr.com) for this fic found [here](https://38.media.tumblr.com/e66022de63e050f5f37ddb22e9830290/tumblr_n7l06e8zSH1r7du26o1_500.jpg) and [here](https://31.media.tumblr.com/a1ee6fc1b80f5aa805aa27fd02fa3594/tumblr_n7l06e8zSH1r7du26o2_500.jpg)!
> 
>  
> 
> [BelladonnaQ.Tumblr.com ](http://www.belladonnaq.tumblr.com)


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